


As Natural As Breathing

by thepatchmatrix



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Cutesy, Fluff, Getting Together, Multi, No editing we die like mne, Pre-OT3
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-31
Updated: 2019-01-31
Packaged: 2019-10-19 16:50:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,017
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17605166
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thepatchmatrix/pseuds/thepatchmatrix
Summary: It's small moments that bring forth realizations that seem as natural as breathing when they think about it. The surprise is that they didn't know sooner.





	As Natural As Breathing

**Author's Note:**

> I have no idea what I'm doing or where this came from but here, have something cute!

It starts with a punch.

Cullen has been punched many times in life. More than average, in fact. For a while, it usually amounted to a light tap, the foolish rivalry between recruits or the friendly jostling of young templars. Lately, it’s been more serious, leaving bruises and split knuckles to match the ferocity of the rage behind the action. So, when Josephine taps him on the shoulder while their waiting for Leliana and the Herald to join them in the war room, he’s more than a little surprised.

Luckily, for once, old reactions take over before his surprise makes things awkward. He reels back, fake hurt flashing across his face as he cradles his “wounded” shoulder.

Joesphine’s eyes are round, her own surprise parting her lips as she gasps and leans back ever so slightly. She clearly can’t believe her own actions. The scandalized look that crosses her face for a brief second almost sends Cullen into a laughing fit. Then, a blush rises on her face, darkening her cheeks as she stutters through an apology and turns away to collect herself.

_I love it when she blushes,_ He thinks.

Cullen is more surprised at how natural that thought seems than the thought itself as he turns towards the opening door.

Leliana steps through, smile slowly growing from a sly smirk into a small grin, flashing the barest hint of teeth as she takes him Josephine’s embarrassed posture and turned face.

_And I love it when she smiles_ , He thinks, just as naturally as before.

Before Leliana or Josephine can say anything, Cullen pulls forth his childhood dramatics, bemoaning his “grievous” wound and giving the two the best, innocent expression he can muster through his amusement.

And if it makes Leliana smile wider and Josephine blush harder, and his own heart flutter at these two magnificent women, well, that’s his secret, isn’t it.

~*~

It starts with the strike of a match.

Earlier that day, a messenger with a sack full of correspondence had thrown himself through Skyhold’s gate. The man had gone first to Haven’s fresh destruction, then been chased by demons and bandits and Red Templars as he searched for the Inquisition’s new stronghold. Now, he was weeks late with important letters from possible allies. Josephine, knowing just how vital every minute was in the Grand Game, immediately set upon the satchel, calling two of her three apprentices away from their visiting retainers to help her sort the missives.

Unfortunately, almost every letter needed a fast, lengthy response and they were days late.

Now, she sat at her desk late in the night. She’d sent her apprentices to bed hours before, their shaking hands and slurring voices indicating just how much they’d been doing before Josephine had called for their help. Instead, she took the rest of the letters on alone. She’d never be able to rest before they were answered anyway.

Her normally elegant handwriting was a mess. Shaking cursive wound and slanted across every page. Large drops of ink were smeared, almost covering nearby words. But she kept at it, promising herself to have a scribe rewrite everything in the morning. She just needed to get the hard part done first.

She spoke to herself in a low tone, the sound of her voice helping her parse sentences and formulate the perfect prose. She’d always been a better speaker than a writer anyways.

Josephine was so deep in her letters that she didn’t notice as, one by one, the candles around the room began to flicker out and the fire burned low. She didn’t pause until the candle on her desk, the last candle alight, sputtered out.

In the sudden darkness, she froze. Ink dripped from her pen as she realized the lateness of the hour and just how dark her office could be. The window above her did little to light the room, the moon a bare sliver of silver in the sky. The shadows stretched and yawned, a gaping mouth full of secrets, ready to stab her in the back at a moments notice.

The light scratch and hiss of a match revealed Leliana. She lit the candle in her hand and went about replacing the used candles around Josephine’s desk. Soon, the office was again bathed in warm candlelight.

_She keeps me safe_ , Josephine thought fondly.

She almost shook her head to dislodge it. Leliana kept them _all_ safe, not just her.

Before she could speak, Leliana lit the last candle and set it on the desk, replacing the still-warm stump.

“You’re dripping ink on your letter.”

“Oh!” Josephine immediately set the pen aside, grabbing a blank paper and carefully blotting at the spot. It wouldn’t do to ruin her hard work now.

Leliana just smiled and grabbed a stack of letters, eyes already scanning the topmost missive.

Behind her, the door slowly opened and Cullen peeked through.

“Hello. Still awake, I see,” he said, entirely unsurprised.

In his hands was a tray full of fruit, cheese, cups and a pot of tea. He brought the tray over, setting it on the edge of the desk before turning to relight the fireplace. Josephine and Leliana chatted as Cullen puttered about, cleaning up the stacks of letters and clearing the small tables her apprentices had brought in to write on. Then, he returned to the desk and set out the cups, careful to avoid the paper spread across the desk. He poured tea for each of them before finally grabbing a chair and settling down with them.

_He takes care of me_ , she thought tenderly.

Before she could ponder why this made her feel warm, Cullen said, “I’ve never been good with politics, but I’ve been told I’m a good sounding board.”

Morning found the three asleep in their chairs. Josephine and Leliana were slumped on the desk, each gaining new splashes of ink on their faces and arms with each sleepy shift, while Cullen had his head tipped back and his arms crossed gently across his stomach. The tea was cold and the food was eaten.

~*~

It started with a hand on her shoulder.

Leliana had seen more loss than most. Following the Hero of Ferelden against the Darkspawn of the Fifth Blight had seen to that. And the years following had been no less bloody. But this was different. These were _her_ people.

As a spymaster, she vetted each member of her force. She knew every face and its corresponding name and story. They weren’t just pawns on a chess board or markers on a map. They were _people_.

She let nothing cross her face as she read the report. Two of her cells overtaken by Red Templars before the attack on Haven. And they’d known, tried to send word, but their messenger birds had been shot down, their forward scouts slaughtered, the remaining numbers eviscerated. And no one had known. None had gone searching.

In the aftermath of Haven’s destruction and the weeks of searching for a new home, so many things had slipped. It was only by chance that one of Cullen’s patrols had passed through the area and found the body of a scout.

(Roderick, who had an elderly mother in Lothering. She’d need to talk to her in person, a letter was too cold a way to tell someone that they were alone in the world.)

That had led to the camp, what was left of it.

(Elaine, a farmer’s daughter. Gaius, a former scribe from Denerim. Taeras, a Dalish Elf who lost their clan when they were young.)

That had led to the next camp. And their dead scouts. And their dead birds. And shouldn’t she be better at this. She’d seen death, given death, _been_ death for so many years. But this hurt. Like losing her mother. And Tug. And Sketch. And Marjolaine—

Gentle pressure on her shoulder and she turns and—

Cullen rubbed his thumb in small, soothing circles. He glanced at the report in her hand before looking her in the eye. Of course he was familiar with the paper, his men had complied it.

“It never get’s easier. If it does, _then_ you have a problem.”

She knows this, she does. But It’s nice to have the reminder.

_I need him to ground me_ , is not exactly what she thought would come to mind, but it warms her.

Before she can thank him, a set of arms wraps across her shoulders, not dislodging Cullen’s hand, but resting gently over it.

“I’m sorry, about your people. We should have found them sooner,” Josephine adds, tightening her hold for a moment before relaxing again, but not moving away.

_I need her to hold me_ , comes naturally and Leliana does not resist.

Instead, she leans into the woman behind her and the man beside her and cries.

~*~

Leliana watches them from the battlements as they drill some of her people in the upper courtyard. They’re making a spectacle of themselves, a group of mismatched humans and elves and dwarves all sitting in a half circle around Cullen and Josephine. It’s almost like a group of children around a storyteller, except these entertainers are showing them different restraining holds and how to break them.

She winces as Josephine, in a plain linen shirt and leather pants, pulls Cullen over her shoulder and slams the much larger man into the ground with a dull thump. He coughs hard as he turns on his side, away from the watching crowd. His grin is wide and proud, though he settles back into a neutral look of approval as he faces their watchers.

She smiles and watches over them.

~*~

Josephine wakes to find Leliana asleep in the chair beside her bed.

The fever had been fast. While not fatal, the sickness sweeping through Skyhold took victims with little warning. Josephine supposes the heat she’d felt before losing consciousness had not been from the roaring fire.

Spread across her nightstand is a half-eaten platter of fruit and a stack of opened letters, each with a matching response, if Josephine is reading them right in the low light. Ink is splashed along the side of Leliana’s hand.

Josephine grabs it, a blush flashing across her face, both from the leftover fever and from the thought of hold more than just Leliana’s hand. Maybe Cullen’s too.

~*~

Cullen walks into his office to find Josephine and Leliana have commandeered his desk. And his chair. And his bookshelves.

Blankets are pinned on corners and pulled across open space. It’s odd and cozy all at the same time. It brings fond memories from his childhood, when Rosalie and Mia would steal all the bedding in the house and turn it into a little shelter, Inevitably, he and Branson would be dragged in by night fall and they would fall asleep while playing hand games and telling scary stories.

He can hear the lightest hint of a giggle as he approaches. He knows he should be concerned, but the day has been long and the war has been hard and nothing pressing is on the horizon. He sheds his armor and cloak in quick, measured movements and ducks down, looking for an opening.  First one, then another hand grabs a piece of cloth and suddenly, he can climb inside the small construction. He has to lay against Leliana, wrapping an arm around her so he can reach Josephine, and he reaches down, finding a free blanket and pulls it up over the three of them.

They fall asleep with Cullen draping his long arms around them, sleepily shifting the blanket back into place every time the chill breaches the walls of the cloth construction.

~*~

They stand in the war room. Cullen has his markers placed and arms spread as he surveys the coming battlefield. Josephine stands to his left, her pen already scratching out ideas. Leliana leans against the table on his right, arms crossed as she mentally tallies her information.

Together, they smile and blush, keep safe and take care, ground and hold, as they turn to face the Inquisitor and decide the future.

**Author's Note:**

> I love these three so much and I'm not really sure why. Also, this is so much lighter than my last work (and latest WIPs ;D )
> 
> Until I find somewhere new, come yell at me on [tumblr](http://thepatchmatrix.tumblr.com/)


End file.
